


The Bitter End

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then I guess I got what I deserved. Are you happy now?" Kmeme request for a bitter exchange between Anders and Fenris after Anders is hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter End

The cave was cold, but Anders didn’t feel the cold, what he felt was warm lassitude pulling him back down toward unconsciousness. He knew it was a spell – funny how templars didn’t mind mages when they could use them like tools – but he was just so, so tired and it hurt so much to be awake.

After enough unremitting pain, he didn’t even notice the slow, constant welling of tears trickling down his face. They washed tracks in the blood and dirt, showing sallow skin beneath.

He should feel hopeful, after all, all the templars who had—

All the men who had hurt him were dead. If he turned his head just a little, he could see Byron’s head. Likely if he turned his head the other way, he would see Byron’s arms, legs, and torso in a scatter of pieces. Hawke did have a tendency to make a mess, didn’t she?

She would be back soon, he could just close his eyes and rest until….

His eyes dropped closed and Fenris shook his shoulder.

“You cannot sleep,” he said roughly.

“Just five minutes,” Anders pleaded, but Fenris shook him again, drawing a whimper of pain from the battered mage.

“If you sleep, you will die,” he reminded Anders, sounding as though helping the mage live was a distasteful duty he carried out only under duress.

Anders pried open his eyes. “You hate me even like this.”

He tried to shake his head in disgust and stopped himself when the pain flared like a fireball with him at its center. “And you say I’m the monster.”

Fenris glared. “You brought this on yourself. You flaunt your magic. You’re lucky you’re alive at all.”

“You son of a bitch,” Anders sighed.

For the first time in a long time, he missed the flare of anger and power that would have come with Justice’s response to Fenris’ hatred and bigotry. Who knew? You really could keep the Fade spirit down, all you had to do was slowly kill the host in the process. The Chantry would be so proud.

“And I’m the abomination,” he said bitterly.

“You are,” Fenris retorted. “You knew the laws and you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone but yourself, just like a magister would. You consorted with a demon.”

Anders closed his eyes. He was too tired for this. It took strength to face down someone’s blind hatred. He sobbed once, twice, then curled in on himself, wrapping tight around the pain of everything that had been done.

“Then I guess I got what I deserved,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Are you happy now?”

Fenris looked down at him, naked, bleeding, covered only by a rough piece of tarp Fenris had pulled out of a pile of refuse, face streaked with tears and contorted in pain and shook his head.

“No. I would have put you to the sword along with those templars, but _she_ loves you.”

“And _you_ love her.”


End file.
